Noodles #231

The technical prophylaxis the brain performs from time to time is like a cruel joke. Because it does not warn us about what it is going to do and how we are going to feel about it.
There are times when we can't get our heads together. You know, there's a little confusion in the mind. I used to think of it as a mess of threads, tangled together and tied in knots that can't be untangled. It was a very naïve notion. I think the tangle of the mind is more like a noodle. Sticky, heavy, drawn-out and tasteless. Cold or hot, I don't know, but I don't like either. And the thoughts and images trapped in this mass certainly lend some flavor, though I'm not sure if that's good or bad. In the end, they just keep coming up over and over in your head, alternating and bringing nothing new to the table. It looks as if they are signaling you something and don't want to leave you alone, but they are just stuck in a noodle, just like you are.